


gold rush

by emjee (MerryHeart)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nicolo 'Acts of Service' di Genova, Porn with Feelings, Words of Affirmation, more like 'why isn't everyone in love with you I don't understand', the most established of established relationships, the opposite of jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerryHeart/pseuds/emjee
Summary: In which Joe flirts shamelessly with his husband, a stranger mistakes Nicky's microexpressions for disinterest, and Nicky wonders why the whole world isn't also in love with the love of his life.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 92
Kudos: 727





	gold rush

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to Good0mens (peachpitandpomegranate on tumblr) for the premise of this fic! [The original post can be found here.](https://peachpitandpomegranate.tumblr.com/post/641057311612387328/desperately-need-a-fic-where-joe-and-nicky-are)

“And, if you’ll excuse me saying so,” Joe murmurs, rolling the stem of his wineglass between his fingers, “you have the loveliest shoulders of any man I’ve ever met.”

“Hm,” is Nicky’s only reply, a soft, warm noise in the back of his throat. Joe also catches a twitch at the corner of his mouth and the shadow of a glimmer in his eye.

They aren’t running the _fancy meeting you here, stranger_ line they sometimes do when they want to be particularly shameless or indulge an a kind of excitement that only exists because of the unacknowledged certainty that they’ll be going home together. No, tonight Joe’s just decided to be effusive, because why not—life may be long, but that’s no excuse not to offer his affection to his love like so many slices of a shared orange. Also, Joe enjoys being an outrageous flirt. He’s having a great time right now.

So is Nicky, he knows, for all his face might seem impassive. Joe swears whole solar systems have died and been born in Nicky’s eyes; anyone could know that, if they took the time to look. Few people do; that’s their problem. Joe notices the flush that’s spread high on Nicky’s cheeks, the relaxed muscles of his jaw, the way his head is tilted just so. The man might as well have hearts in his eyes.

“Another drink?” Joe asks, glancing at Nicky’s empty glass.

“One more,” Nicky nods. “And then home.”

“Perfect.”

Joe stands up and goes to the other end of the bar to order one last Negroni and cash out. When he comes back, there’s someone in his seat.

There’s someone in his seat, and Nicky’s jaw is far less relaxed than it was when Joe left.

Before he can ask what’s going on, Nicky plucks the Negroni from his hand, downs half of it, sets it on the bar with a dull _thunk_ , and reaches for Joe, who suddenly finds himself being kissed very thoroughly. Nicky has one arm around Joe’s waist and the other over Joe’s shoulder, and this is no unhurried thing, this is—

 _What’s gotten into him?_ Joe wonders as he feels Nicky bend him backward. He breaks away for air before Nicky can back him up against the bar. They’ve been to places where this sort of thing doesn’t make anyone look twice, but this isn’t that kind of joint, this is a place that serves artisan cheese boards and calls itself a speakeasy because there’s no sign on the door and you have to go down stairs to get in. The real things haven’t been around for going on—God, how long, now? A hundred years? A little less? What’s a decade, here or there. Point is, they probably need to go before someone tells them to get a room.

Nicky, it seems, is a step ahead of him. “You understand nothing,” he says to the man now sitting in Joe’s seat, then turns on his heel and begins to march toward the stairs, grabbing Joe’s hand as he goes.

* * *

 _The absolute nerve_ , Nicky thinks, practically towing Joe down the sidewalk as they make their way to the train. _The utter gall of some people. There is truly no accounting for taste_.

“Nicolò,” Joe says, as Nicky pulls him down onto his own lap. They’re sitting at the back of the train car, which is nearly empty. Nicky has a _fuck off_ expression on his face that means they should be unbothered for the duration of the ride. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, tesoro. Nothing important, anyway.” He presses a kiss to Joe’s temple and tightens his arms around Joe’s waist, pulling him closer. “I promise.”

They spend the rest of the ride in companionable silence. Nicky rubs Joe’s back absentmindedly as he replays the scene in his mind.

_Joe, walking to the other end of the bar, almost certainly aware that Nicky’s staring at his ass as he walks away. Then This Fucking Guy, as Nicky has decided to think of him, sliding into Joe’s vacant seat._

_“Bit desperate, isn’t he.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“The guy who just left. Been a long time since I’ve seen someone fail so spectacularly to take a hint. Some people, huh? They just don’t pay attention.”_

_For a moment, Nicky’s too stunned to say anything. And then—_

_“You are the one, it seems, who has failed to pay attention. Firstly, that is only the love of my life you’ve just insulted. Secondly, I would say he’s the one you should be tripping over yourself to make a pass at, except for the fact—very inconvenient for you, very agreeable to me—that he is mine, and I am his. Thirdly, I am more than capable of extricating myself from a situation I do not enjoy, and in fact—” oh, thank God, here’s Joe coming back to him, “that is what I shall do right now.”_

_He takes his Negroni from Joe and swallows a mouthful or two, the Campari bitter on his tongue, then sweeps Joe into a kiss that makes Nicky momentarily forget they’re in a pseudo-pretentious bar (this is what they get for trying new places in old cities, he thinks), and now his only thought is getting home, going home with his man—_

_“You understand nothing.”_

“Babe.” Joe’s standing up. “This is us.”

They’re home almost before Nicky realizes it—well, where home is for the moment, and only for another week, actually, before they rendez-vous with Andy and Nile, who have been doing some intense equestrian training. ( _I don’t think horses are going to be as relevant as you think they’re going to be_ , Nile had said. _Rule number one, Nile_ , Andy argued, _is be prepared._ Nicky thinks it was more that Andy wanted to teach someone new about horses.)

As soon as he throws the deadbolt, Nicky grips Joe’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and turns Joe’s head so that their mouths meet. It’s sudden, and Joe’s surprised, but…not opposed, it quickly becomes clear, as he opens his mouth and responds to Nicky’s embrace with equal intensity. Nicky’s gripping Joe’s shirt with both hands, his knuckles white, he’s sure, pulling him closer, one of Joe’s hands has made a fist in Nicky’s hair, and Joe tastes better than anything, sweeter than honey and rarer than a priceless wine, how does everyone not see it, how are they not awestruck—

“Mmf.”

It appears they have run into a wall. The noise came from Joe, as his head bumped against it. Nicky’s pressing his whole body against Joe, and now he wants Joe under him, wants to show him, has to show him—

“Bed?” he gasps.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Joe answers, looking up through his lashes with those exquisite brown eyes of his. Nicky adores everything about Joe’s body, but if forced to answer under some kind of duress, (such as, oh, Joe sitting on his chest and tickling him, a thing that happened only last week) he would say Joe’s eyes get pride of place, with their warm, rich darkness and expressive honesty. They’re stained glass windows into Joe’s iridescent soul.

“How does everyone not see it?” Nicky mutters, licking into Joe’s mouth one last time before they make their halting way to bed, shedding clothes as they go.

Once they’re naked, Nicky places a broad hand on Joe’s chest and pushes him flat on his back. Joe goes eagerly, his expression half bemusement and half cat that got the cream. Nicky lies over him, lining their bodies up, wants as much of his skin touching as much of Joe’s skin as he can manage, and then he has to kiss Joe again, he _has_ to.

“Yusuf,” he breathes, almost frantic. He braces himself on one arm and brushes a stray curl away from Joe’s forehead. “Yusuf. You mean everything to me.”

“I know, hayati, I know,” Joe soothes. “You tell me as much as you need to.”

Nicky smiles one of his small smiles and kisses Joe again, first on his mouth, then his neck, and then it just makes sense to keep going. “How could anyone think you aren’t my sun and stars,” he says between kisses. “And why are we not constantly trailed by your admirers? How are you not accosted by lovesick people every time you step out of doors? Where are the roses thrown at your feet by passerby?”

“There was a time,” Joe starts, but is cut off by his own sharp intake of breath as Nicky gently sucks the head of Joe’s cock into his mouth. “There was a time,” Joe starts again, “when I was accosted by a lovesick Nicolò every time I was indoors _or_ out of doors.”

“I did not accost you,” Nicky insists over Joe’s noise of protest at the loss of his mouth. “I was trying very hard to keep it a secret.”

“Well, you did a good job.” Nicky returns to the task at hand and is pleased to feel Joe’s hand in his hair again. “I tell this man all the time how much he means to me, I thought, and he never says anything in return, but he will not stop foisting the best cuts of meat on me, not to mention half his fruit. And now—oh, unh, Nicolò, _yes_ —even now I say these things to you while you do this for me, while you—Nicky—”

Joe’s hand tightens and Nicky pulls away. “I think I need my mouth for other things,” he says, kissing his way back up Joe’s body and taking him in hand instead. “Tesoro, my heart, my light, mine, mine…”

Joe whines and leans up to kiss him. Their mouths are going to be so sore but it doesn’t matter, Nicky needs this, needs to have his tongue in Joe’s mouth and his hands on the parts of Joe’s body that give him the most pleasure. “Yours,” Joe bites out as Nicky continues to stroke him, twisting his wrist now and again. “All yours.”

“Imagine not knowing. There are people out there who don’t know that you’re all mine and that I’m yours, it should be obvious, the clearest thing in the world, the most constant thing, my north star, the sky a sailor uses to find his way home, my home, my Yusuf, I adore you—”

“Nicky—God—”

Joe’s clinging to him; he can feel Joe’s blunt nails scraping against his back. He can feel Joe’s cock growing slicker, his breathing get faster.

“In your own time, my love,” Nicky murmurs against the shell of Joe’s ear. “I’ve got you.”

“ _Nicolò_.”

And then he feels three simultaneous sensations that are nearly enough to make him come himself—Joe’s hand tugging at his hair, Joe’s teeth against his neck, Joe coming all over his hand. “That’s it, Yusuf,” he soothes, as Joe continues to shake underneath him. “That’s it.” He brings his hand to his mouth and licks it clean, then moves to lie between Joe’s legs and clean the rest of him with his tongue. He stays there when he’s done, leaning his cheek against the smooth skin of Joe’s inner thigh. This is one of his very favorite places in the whole world, which is convenient, since he can have it anywhere in the world as long as he has Joe with him.

“Come back up here?” Joe asks after a while. Nicky obliges and Joe rolls them both onto their sides facing each other, and slots one leg between Nicky’s. “Here,” he says, putting a hand on Nicky’s ass and grinding his thigh against Nicky’s cock. “Take your pleasure.”

Nicky finds his own orgasms to be a secondary concern when he’s in this kind of mood, but he does appreciate the release. It seems to happen in slow motion, the way he pulses and spills against Joe’s body, his lips almost brushing Joe’s, practically sharing the same breath.

After they’ve washed and dressed for bed, Joe pulls Nicky across his chest.

“What brought this on?” he asks. “Not, you understand, that I am in any way complaining. That was…mmm.”

“Mmm,” Nicky agrees. “Just a thing that happened at the bar.”

“That guy?”

Nicky slides a hand up into Joe’s hair. “This Fucking Guy took your seat and told me it was so clear I wasn’t interested in you.”

“This is why people should try minding their own business sometimes. Anyone who knew you would have seen that you looked absolutely besotted.”

“I was having a good time. I like when you flirt with me.”

“And I like when you take me home and toss me on the bed and tell me how much you adore me.”

“Among other things.”

Joe laughs softly. “Among other things.”

“I love you very much, hayati.”

“I love you more with every breath I breathe.”

Nicky presses one last kiss to Joe’s mouth and rolls to face the door. He feels Joe’s nose against the nape of his neck, and the next moment he is asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> title from the Taylor Swift song of the same name, although it's something of an inversion, as Nicky spends the whole thing wondering why there isn't a gold rush, as it were.
> 
> I'm also on tumblr as emjee! I love to hear from you, either there or in the comments.


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